Dixon's Retribution
by Snowman1
Summary: After Sloane killed his wife, Dixon tries to get some revenge: Rated for light language, violence, and a graphic death.
1. The Church Meeting

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Chapter 1: Church Meeting

Sydney specifically remembered orders from Jack. "Dixon's been missing for a while. I know that this has been a hard thing for him, but he's gonna have to suck it up. This is the CIA, things are going to happen to you." So, of course, he sent his own daughter out on a mad hunt to find a depressed man. On her way, she couldn't help but remember the last time she talked to someone who had lost his wife. Instantly, she jumped back to the CIA safe house, where James Lennox was being kept.

_The night was dark, and when reflecting on it, Sydney distinctly remembered there being a warning of rain. She had gone to the safe house to drop off some groceries for him. Even though she hardly knew the man, Sydney felt she could really connect with him. She almost felt Danny's kiss on her stomach. _

"Jim?" She called.

"Beware the grieving man and his bottle," he had warned. Struggling, he stood up with a half-drained bottle of rum. 

"I lost my fiancé last year," she told him. "And as hard as it is, I would rather feel it then to not feel anything." Suddenly, James came at her, with a kiss. Even though she knew he was drunk, she felt guilty to both Danny and Michael.

With the honk of a horn, Sydney flashed back to reality. The light she had been waiting at was green again, so she drove through the streets of L.A. on possibly a never-ending manhunt. On the way, it started to rain. In a way, not only because of Dixon's marital status, but also the atmosphere, Sydney felt herself being dragged back to the CIA safe house incident. After nearly an hour of searching, and half an hour of torrential downpours, she found the CIA black sports car parked in a church parking lot. "Oh no," Sydney muttered to herself, entering the building. After opening the colossal set of front doors, she pressed her ear up against the second set to make sure there was no service in progress. Slowly, with wet hands, she opened the door and saw a lone figure in the front pew, with his head bowed. Slowly, she walked down the aisle to his pew. Halfway through, the large wooden doors slammed shut on their hinges and Dixon looked up. What he saw, through his tears, was a dark-haired woman in shambles. In desperation, he muttered, bewildered, "Diane?"

Sydney couldn't take it. She stopped moving, trying to come up with a response. She knew answering yes would let him down soon enough, but saying no would have gotten his hopes up for nothing. Dixon, sensing her reluctance, turned back to facing the massive crucifix on the altar. Sydney started her procession back down the aisle. When she reached the front, she kneeled, crossed herself, and went to kneel next to Dixon. He turned to see his partner of nearly 7 years, and almost smiled. His smile soon reversed itself when he thought of his wife's last moment.

_He flashed back to outside the restaurant. "I don't know why I'm surprised, but I am," he had told Vaughn after some discussion about the Lakers. Season passes! The idea excited him, but the casual kiss from his wife excited him more. "I'll be home after I go get the kids," she had told him. If only she had know that would be her last words; her last kiss. The idea that really scared Dixon, though, was that if he had been in the car behind her, he could have possibly been a casualty. But he was happy, in a way. She had said to him earlier "If you had died that day, I would have buried a stranger." In a sick, twisted way, he was happy Diane didn't make a stranger a widower. He laughed, in spite of the situation. _

Sydney, thinking that maybe he was feeling better, struck up conversation. "The CIA got some Intel about you wife…" she started.

"Oh God no," Dixon cried. "This can't be another Irina or Elsa situation! Please tell me she was a U.S. Patriot! Please…" he begged.

"No, that's not the case," Sydney said. Then, "I mean, she's not Irina or Elsa. The Intel we found was about her murderer."

"Let me guess. The Irina-Sloane-Sark foundation?"

"Yes. We have video footage from the explosion. It was definitely triggered by something, a detonator. And we saw someone close enough to the car to set it off, and drive away when it exploded. We managed to recover a phone call made in that vicinity…" Sydney trailed off. She couldn't believe what Marshall had uncovered. How could it be?

"Yes?"

"My friend has been the CIA leak to Sloane. I feel like such an idiot, betrayed like that."

Dixon felt that Sydney's emotions were insignificant because he had just lost his wife, but he could understand that Sydney must have been suffering from the betrayal.

"Let's take them down."


	2. The News at Headquarters

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Chapter 2: The news at Langley

"As you all know, Will Tippin has been reported as the CIA leak to Arvin Sloane." Jack opened a meeting up with. Those in attendance, especially Vaughn, looked up in surprise. Marshall, Dixon, and Vaughn each thought of their private memories of Will.

_Vaughn thought back to when he and Will had their first big conversation. The two men were left in Sydney's home, and Will had a few questions to ask._

"You okay?" Vaughn asked.

Sighing, Will responded, "No, actually I'm not. I had this dream that I told Francie everything I knew about the agency."

"What do they have you working on?" Vaughn inquired.

"Analyzing drug trafficking through the Panama Canal and reading human data and then downloading it off the KH-11 satellite."

At the time, he had thought that Will was just nervous, that maybe since he was new to the CIA, and his job was exciting, he couldn't keep his secrets in. But later that week, the KH-11 had blacked out during a crucial mission. How stupid he was not to suspect him earlier. 

_Marshall, on the other hand, had a different memory of Will. He remembered Will's first, big CIA debut, in a briefing about Amhad Kabir, and he felt he could really relate to how he was feeling. Not only in awe of the grandness of the Langley building, but also nervous about having to work for an intelligence agency. From then on, Marshall did his best to try to support the good man Will. Finally, he worked up his courage to introduce himself to Will at his computer station. Recalling the event, he noticed Will seemed eager to get to work. Which was good, of course, but strange, especially after someone's been working there for two years. And as a reporter, Will must have had a great ability to deceive. Marshall, too, felt greatly disturbed._

Dixon had already had his reaction to the news. After working with SD-6, he knew that Sloane had had his eye on Tippin for quite some time now. The surprising thing was how he went from target to ally in a short amount of time. In fact, Dixon had trouble believing that Sydney had befriended a mole. It seemed impossible, but the facts all added up. The bugging of her apartment, the framing of their plumber, everything. It could only be Will.

"Mr. Tippin's been brought in for interrogation, but it's not going well. He seems very rooted in a cover story that he didn't do it. But we have evidence," Jack reminded them, "of a phone conversation between Will and Sloane after, umm…" Jack didn't finish, realizing the awkwardness it would cause with Dixon in the room.

"You mean after my wife died?" Dixon asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry," came Jack's reply. An apology from Jack was unexpected, which perked Dixon up all the more.

"However, there is a good side of all this. We've managed to track Sloane down. It appears he's moved from his Spanish hideout. He's in São Paulo, Brazil. Sydney, Dixon, and Vaughn: You'll be leading this operation. 20 members of our S.W.A.T. unit will be going in with you. Marshall?" Jack asked. After a few seconds of no response, he yelled, "MARSHALL!"

Marshall, who had been chuckling and staring off into space, snapped back to reality and faced them all with dreadful seriousness. "Ok, as you know, you're going into Brazil, because, you know, that's what Mr. Bristow just told you," Marshall started with a nervous look around the room. "Right. Anyway, it's going to be hard to locate Sloane because São Paulo is no Vatican City. You know? Vatican City? The smallest country in the world? It has an area of 0.2 square-"

"Marshall!" Jack and Vaughn yelled, while Sydney and Dixon reflected on all of Marshall's great presentations.

"Right. So São Paulo is really stinking big. But, with that disk that you acquired in Tuscany, Miss Bristow-Nice job on that, by the way- we managed to, well, map out Sloane's DNA and we can now pinpoint his exact location at any given moment. Unlike a transmitter, this cannot be fried because this thing- well, I haven't shown it to you yet, but- it recognizes certain nucleotide sequencing and transmits it via satellite to this PDA," he said pulling out a Palm Pilot v.X. "Now, with this, you can do just about anything, including…"

But with that, a CIA techie entered the room. "Marshall? We need your help. Could you try to open this file?" the techie said, handing him a slip of paper.

After a few minutes, Marshall had whipped out his laptop and began to try to open it. "Oh god," he said. "We've been hacked again."


	3. Oh, Marhsall!

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Chapter 2.9: Oh, Marshall

"What do you mean, we've been hacked?" Came Jack's indignant reply. "The only leak is in our custody. It's impossible to be hacked!" Jack rambled on for about four minutes, while Marshall watched him, chuckling. 

"Calm down, sir. April Fools, y'know?" Marshall responded weakly. With a few keystrokes, he revealed to the CIA techie that he had just simply changed the password and it's back to how it was before. The four agents at the briefing sat smiling at the prank that Marshall had pulled, even though they knew they shouldn't. It was strictly against protocol.


	4. The Flight into Brazil

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Chapter 3: The Flight into Brazil

Jack sat with his head in his hands, reflecting on Marshall's idiocy. In such a delicate matter, there was no time to joke. But in a way, he was glad that Marshall was such an idiot. It distracted him from realizing that he could almost have Irina right where he wanted her. And Sloane was playing almost into their hands. It seemed too easy, almost. Marshall's "prank" had distracted him from his doubts, but they came back in full.

"Ok, sorry about that, everyone," Marshall said. "It's just a holiday, and, well, I thought that maybe things would be a little more, umm…. Yeah." Marshall's insecurities came back, and he felt like an idiot once again. 

"Just continue with the tech review, Marshall," Jack said, feeling upset.

"Right, of course, Mr. Bristow. Now, of course, you'll also need this for your mission," Marshall said, looking down at his empty hand, realizing he never picked anything up. He bent down and began pulling things out of his bag. Sydney smiled as she saw him pull out nearly 10 cell phones, each modified for certain missions, and then, randomly, a titanium spork. After pulling out countless other things, he finally came up with something. 

"Here we go," he said, branding what appeared to be a suit jacket. "You're gonna love this one, it's really great, I'm serious."

"First, it's lined with a finger print reader, so all you need to do to get clearance to anything, is just casually, you know," and he put the jacket on, and casually bumped into Jack's hand. "Now, after two minutes of analyzing, it will produce a latex copy of the fingerprint." And sure enough, Marshall reached into his pocket and pulled out 5 latex strips, each which matched Jack's hand perfectly.

"Secondly, we have this." Marshall said, picking up the spork. "I, uh, I hate how sometimes you're trying to eat something and you need a spoon or a fork, but you only have a fork or a spoon, depending on which you nee-" Marshall cut himself short, realizing everyone's stare. "So I made this," Marshall said slowly, confused. "I call it a 'Spork,'" to which everyone started laughing. "Yeah, I know, I know, it's already been made," he said, laughing. "But there is a reason I have this. It actually, is, um… I don't know how to say this…" he said, thinking for a while. "There are three compressed tranquilizer darts in here, one in each fork tooth. It should be useful for something, I'd think."

* * *

Over the Gulf of Mexico, Dixon finally started to relax. He had been nervous about finding Sloane, of course, but there was a secret he was keeping from his country. He had told them that it was an effort to look business-like: that explained the suitcase. It was really a high-powered sniper rifle. It was disassembled, but he thought that Sloane should recognize it very well. It was the same gun that had started this whole thing.

__

He never meant to hit Emily. Everybody believed him, but sometimes he thought that it had done more damage than killing Sloane would have. It was a simple shot: he had finally got Sloane in the middle of his crosshairs, but the head had kept on moving. Dixon had the spot his head would bounce to next when the helicopter passed over head. The vibrations from the helicopter made his shot waver, and he hit Emily. 

Now, of course, he wished he hadn't missed. But it was a sore wish: Nothing would come of it.

_Sydney, on the other hand, thought back to her first meeting with Diane. It was a mission in Argentina, when Anna Espinosa caught Sydney in a cave, and had shot Dixon. Sydney managed to get Dixon out of there all right, but it was explaining it to his wife that was the problem._

"We were just standing there, outside the bank's office, when this car pulled up; I didn't even see it. These men stepped out, they had guns. They wanted the bank's computer codes. I had them in my briefcase, your husband grabbed me and pulled me down to the ground."

She felt so bad about lying to her at the time, and in fact it was good, like Dixon had said on that night, that it was out in the open. It was forces of evil like this: Sloane, her mother, Sark, even the long forgotten Anna that made her life so bad, yet drove it forward. She would get revenge.

The plane's P.A. system rang out "We have just entered Brazil, we'll be reaching São Paulo in 20 minutes."

In her rush of thoughts, she didn't even notice how familiar the African stewardess looked.


	5. The Invasion

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Chapter 4: The invasion

The plane landed, and the three agents stepped out.

"It will take a long time to plan this, but we need to act quick." Vaughn informed them. "Each of you check into the Holiday Inn three miles away. At 4 o'clock, we'll meet in my room, room 474. I will leave the door open, and the S.W.A.T. team will enter from there. For now, we have a few hours to spare," he told them, winking at Sydney. He knew what he had planned, and she took the hint too. But Dixon had other plans. 

The scene at the hotel lobby was very amusing. First, Sydney and Vaughn checked in together. In perfect Portuguese, Vaughn and the clerk began to settle rooming arrangements for him and his beautiful "wife." They were escorted to the elevator, where Dixon saw the overhead display show they were headed for the 4th floor. After a few minutes of waiting, he approached the desk.

"_Cumprimentos_," he said, greeting the clerk.

"Ahh, _senhor_ Dixon. Your room is already taken care of. The _senhor_ you wanted to see is waiting for you," the bellhop responded without emotion.

"_Obrigado_," Dixon replied, thanking the bellhop. From there, Dixon headed towards the stairs. Call it paranoid, but if he was being tracked, the elevator would have been rigged for him. When he reached his room, on the top floor of the 15-story building, Dixon pulled out his key. Looking around, he inserted it into the door, and appeared to have difficulty opening the door. What he really did was press a button on the keychain he put his key on, calling the room to let his mysterious partner know it was he. When he finally did open the door, a dark figure sat in a chair, facing the window. Cigar smoke hovered above the man.

"_Du bist spät_," came a hardened, baritone voice in German, telling Dixon he was late.

"_Hallo_ to you to," Dixon said with mock apologies.

"I understand why you hate Sloane so much. Even while working with him, I sensed a certain evil within him that rose above the corruptness he claimed he saw in his country. His killing your wife crossed an unspoken line. Yes, I will help you." With this, the man stood up from his chair, and as he crossed over into the shadows, his face was clouded in cigar smoke. Dixon couldn't recognize him.

"_Danke_," Dixon replied, thanking the man. The C4 must already be in place. It was a safety precaution, in case Dixon missed his sniper shot again. But he wouldn't.

* * *

Come 4 o'clock, the three agents met once again, this time in Vaughn's room. Dixon noticed the box of condoms on Vaughn's bureau, and the way his hair was slightly ruffled. That, and the fact that Sydney was hiding a champagne bottle when he entered gave away what Dixon expected to find there. There was also a S.W.A.T. team leader with them, who would have to know the plans as well. Michael set up a makeshift briefing room, with his laptop at one end, four chairs around it, and a set of blueprints on the table. "Now, we believe Sloane's hiding in this building," he said, bringing up a photo of an adoption agency. "Normally, we'd send Sydney and I in, saying she or I were infertile, or Dixon and I would go in as a gay couple. But today, that's not the plan. Take a look at these blueprints. In the back, there's an entry to the ducts, that's gonna be our route. One piece of tech Marshall did not provide you with is these:" and with great flourish, he produced almost 25 boxes of thermal-goggles, meant to track heat signals. "I don't think I have to explain these, do I? Crawl through the ducts, make our way into the basement, find a guard who would have access to the downstairs facility, take his prints, and full-scale assault the office. Got it?"

"No," came Dixon's reply. "Just one question," he said, reaching into his pocket. Quickly, he pulled out the spork, and nailed his three co-conspirators in the heart, allowing the sedative to travel quickly through the blood stream. Taking out his PDA, he checked again on Sloane's location. It was still exactly where it had been all night. Hopefully, he was sleeping, and Dixon would have him with his pants down. Otherwise, things might not go so well. It was possible that Sloane was expecting the attack.

* * *

Back in Los Angeles, Francie made a call. "They fell for it, sir. They bought our doctored conversations with Will and you. But there's a slight complication. Sydney just left, and according to what I can deduct, she's heading to São Paulo. Sir, they're headed for you. I'd suggest you leave immediately."

The response that came chilled the imposter to the bone. "Sloane's not available at the moment. I hope you didn't have anything important to tell him, because you'll never get the chance."


	6. The Beginning of the End

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Chapter 5: The Beginning of the End

Dixon sat on the roof of the hotel for an hour. He had to add more sedatives to his co-conspirators, which was easy by just heading down to the pharmacy and getting some sleeping pills. They would be out for at least three more hours. The next step in his operation was to take care of the swat team. With a few, well-placed dispensers, he managed to create a combination of heavy anesthetic and amnesiac into a gas form, and the squad was knocked out cold in their van. Then he went in alone to the building.

In the back, just like Vaughn said, was the air duct entrance they were looking for. Dixon couldn't help but be bothered by the fact that Edward Poole's advice might be wrong. Maybe Sloane wasn't just waiting for him. But Poole was the last person that Dixon had access to that was willing to sell Sloane out, so Dixon had no choice but to hope his partner's manipulation of their common foe was correct. But he had no time to worry about that now. The heat signals being picked up by his thermal goggles were getting closer, and Sloane's DNA reading was within yards of him.

* * *

Marshall was working at his desk when a message popped up on his screen. After he stared at it for a few seconds, he ran to Jack. Completely destroying protocol, Marshall ran down the halls of Langley. "Mr. Bristow!" he screamed. "MR. BRISTOW!"

Jack turned around from a very important meeting to see Marshall run right by him. Once again, head bowed, he grabbed Marshall by the collar. Marshall, with his full momentum, broke from Jack's grip, and fell on the floor. Before he even got up, he started explaining himself.

"Mr. Bristow, something's gone wrong in São Paulo. Our whole team, with one exception has been knocked out. We don't know who's done it, but the only logical explanation is that Sloane knew we were coming."

Jack looked up, with a look of deep horror in his eyes, and said, "How could Sloane know we were going to attack him…"

And then it clicked for him.

"Will. He's not the mole. It wasn't a cover story; it was the truth. But who could have had access to make all that evidence point against him? Marshall, get working on finding that out, I'll go talk to Will."

Jack walked briskly across the main floor of the CIA headquarters, and eventually came to a heavily guarded door. He flashed his ID badge, giving him clearance to the "conversation rooms" below. In cell 47, Jack heard Will cry, "Oh no, oh NO!!!" Jack immediately knew what was happening to him, by the sound of the drills echoing throughout the room. Wills screams of terror erupted through the whole cellblock. Jack reflected on all the people he had made scream like that, the most recent of which had also turned out to give no information.

__

Sloane sat down while that creepy torture artist lit a torch.

"I want a location!" Sloane screamed.

Getting no response, the flame touched the already diseased man's skin. With terrible cries, eventually a word came out. 

"Smila," he said. "Smila?"

Later, when Jack gave it a try, he was much more comforting. After what sounded like an automated sand papering machine was let go from Richter's skin, Jack tried to reason. "It doesn't have to end this way. You could be made very comfortable. All you have to do is give us an address."

"Smila?"

"Yes, it's in the Ukraine. Where in Smila? All we need is an address."

"Smila," he said, with some insane laughter, "Smila is my wife." The laugh soon turned to tears, when he said, "and I love her!"

Now he knew that sometimes there were ways to resist torture, but the best of course is to be innocent, like Will. Jack burst through the door to see Will's face bloodied, his arms strapped to a chair, but his head was down. Lazily, he drooled a pool of blood from his mouth, which splattered across the floor. "Release him," Jack said. "He's innocent." For the second time since Will knew him, Will wanted to hug Jack for all he was worth. 

"Thank you," was all Will could say. Then, with a bloody cough, he passed out.

* * *

Dixon's PDA began to beep like crazy, and he knew he was write above Sloane's stationary point. It was most curious, however, that the PDA showed Sloane as right below him, but the heat signals showed someone to the left of the DNA. Regardless, Dixon slammed his foot through the vent, and had his gun facing straight ahead.

He landed facing a wall, which was one of the scariest things he had ever seen. 

Rambaldi's sign was painted in blood, albeit dry blood, on the wall he was facing. This symbol nearly made the PDA explode, and Dixon realized. It was Sloane's blood. He turned around with his pistol drawn, to see Irina standing calmly there.

"This woman here depicted will posses unseen marks, signs to show that she is the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury, a burning anger. Unless prevented, this woman will bring forth the greatest power unto utter desolation."

"What is that?" Dixon asked.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are, Marcus?" At first, Dixon thought it came from Irina, but instead it seemed to radiate around the room. "The first and last person to meet me, Milo Rambaldi, in the flesh. Well, almost…" Dixon noticed the voice was deep, and dark. It was then that Dixon saw Sark. He was holding Sloane's unconscious form, whose gut was greatly bandaged. Unlike Irina, Sark was more nervous with the situation. And then a third form came from the shadows. Dixon couldn't see it with the thermal goggles on, but the footsteps resounding everywhere told him he was in someone's presence. It wasn't until the footsteps stopped that Dixon took off his goggles. Staring him right in the face was Anna Espinosa. She opened her mouth, and Rambaldi's voice rang out, "How do I look?" With a maniacal laugh, she kicked Dixon in the chin, and he was knocked out.

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End file.
